


Snowbound

by seariderfalcon



Category: The Nanny
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3039332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seariderfalcon/pseuds/seariderfalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niles gets more than he ever expected for Christmas when he ends up injured and snowbound at Miss Babcock’s over the holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They made the ride to her penthouse in silence. While Niles stewed in his annoyance over an already too long evening extended by having to haul Medusa home, the creature in question set her stony glare out the window as the car swept through the snowy streets of Manhattan. Quite a few of their most generous potential backers chose to stay home for the evening rather than attend the Sheffield-Babcock Productions Christmas party with the threat of an incoming blizzard heading their way. The ones who managed to make it left early and did so without opening their wallets wide enough to satisfy Miss Babcock's lofty expectations.

In Niles’ opinion, with such an ominous weather forecast, the whole thing should have been canceled and rescheduled, but Miss Babcock plowed right over that suggestion and Mr. Sheffield reluctantly agreed once she bullied him into it.

The silence between them felt unnatural. He chanced a glance at her as he waited on the traffic light to change to green, longing to engage her in a small sparring match just to make himself feel better. The night might not seem such a waste, at least. With the old bat in such a foul mood, however, provoking her right now might land him in traction. Miss Babcock wasn’t much fun when she didn’t want to play too. It just served to make him crankier as well.

It was just probably for the best, though. As the storm started to roll into the city, he needed to remain focused on not wrapping Mr. Sheffield's precious Town Car around a streetlight.

At last, Miss Babcock's building loomed ahead and Niles felt some of the tenseness in his shoulders ease as he pulled beside the curb. He waited a long moment, hoping she'd get out of the car and stomp her way up to her penthouse unattended. Instead, she remained motionless.

"Miss Babcock? We've arrived."

She gave the door handle a momentary side-glance before staring straightforward once again, her chin lifted in defiance.

Niles held back a sigh as he readjusted his leather driving gloves and shoved his car door open. As he rounded the vehicle, he muttered a few choice words with regards to her childish behavior and opened her door with an exaggerated flourish.

This time, she looked down at her lap to the two stout boxes full of files that she held and raised a sculpted brow at him, both a silent command and a challenge to him.

Losing patience with her primadonna act, Niles snatched the boxes from her.

"After you,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “Or does your arthritis require me to unbuckle your seat belt as well?"

"That won't be necessary. I'm a big girl," she responded with faux sweetness while she removed the seat belt with a small flourish.

"Emphasis on the big."

“This from a man who has a pound to match each one of his 2000 Flushes," she called after him as he stomped toward the entrance to her building.

Before he could respond, he suddenly skidded on the icy sidewalk, his feet shuffling back and forth like a cartoon as he tried to regain his footing.

For a brief moment, he thought he found his balance and heaved a sigh of relief.

Then, with no warning whatsoever, he fell backward. The boxes he held in his arms went flying as he landed against icy pavement, his head slamming hard into the brick wall beside him.

 

* * *

 

“Niles? Niles!? Answer me, you big lout!”

With a groan, he forced his eyes to open, though with the way he felt at that moment, all he really wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep.

The sight before his bleary eyes was worth it, however, as he managed to focus on the beautiful, wide-eyed blonde hovering above him much like a celestial being. Her gloved hands cradled his cheeks as she stared down at him. She looked scared.

Then he realized it was Miss Babcock.

“Oh, god…” he moaned. “I’ve died and gone to hell, haven’t I?"

Her frightened expression melted into one of exasperation.

"It's alive," she deadpanned.

Okay, that seemed more like her, he thought as he blinked up at her. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” She glanced back, slightly alarmed, at her doorman. Shifting her attention back to Niles, she asked, “What’s the last thing you DO remember?”

He considered that for a moment. “Driving here, I think…”

She seemed placated by that.

“You didn’t lose much then. Do you think you can stand?” The quiet, almost concerned tone of her voice sounded somewhat off from her usual brusque tone.

Perhaps the knock he just took to the noggin affected his auditory senses?

He nodded, though he immediately regretted doing so. The action left him dizzier. With the assistance of her building’s doorman -- Edward? Edward was his name, right? -- she guided him into a sitting position. As he started to lift himself up from the ground, a sharp pain radiated from his right ankle, causing him to gasp.

“ _Now_ what’s the matter?”

“I think I’ve sprained my ankle.”

“Oh, _great_.”

“Just let me get my bearings. I think I can manage once I get up."

The doorman and Miss Babcock reached out to support him as he pushed himself upward with his arms and one good foot, but with his balance already compromised by the blow to his head and the weakened state of his right foot, he wobbled the moment he stood upright, all but falling into Miss Babcock’s arms.

“Perhaps we should call an ambulance,” Edward suggested.

The last thing Niles wanted was to spend an evening in the E.R. “No, I don’t want to do that.” 

“Well, tempting as it might be, we can’t leave you out here to freeze! And what if you’ve broken something?" 

"I assure you, Miss Babcock, that nothing is broken other than my sense of dignity." To demonstrate his point, he moved his ankle as best he could, wincing and hissing as he did so.

“I have an idea, ma’am. Let me go grab a chair from the office and we can wheel him up to your apartment.”

Miss Babcock nodded and he helped her guide Niles to the nearby wall for some additional support. Once Edward felt satisfied that they’d be all right for a few moments, he slipped inside to retrieve the chair.

She brushed at the dirt and snow that coated his back from the fall.

“Can’t have you dragging all that dirt and grime into my apartment.”

Drag. Dirt. Grime. Babcock. There was a joke to be made here...but he felt too disoriented. The brief effort made his head ache more than it already did and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Wow, Niles, you really did hit your head pretty hard if you can’t even come up with something lamer than your usual repertoire,” she murmured and reached up to pull a piece of dried leaf from his hair.

The doorman saved him from having to try to save face by returning with the chair. With a great deal of relief, Niles let the two of them guide him into it. He closed his eyes as Edward started to push him toward the doors and into the warmth of the lobby, still dizzy enough to find the movement unpleasant. He prayed the elevator ride wouldn’t screw with his equilibrium even more. Much as the idea of spewing all over Miss Babcock’s designer coat and shoes cheered him, he knew he could only take so much bodily injury in one evening.

Luckily, steadying breaths and continuing to keep his eyes screwed shut helped make the trip up to the top floor and into her penthouse. Exhausted from it all, he all but collapsed into the sofa after they helped him switch over from his makeshift wheelchair and out of his coat.

“Will there be anything else, Miss Babcock?”

“Just one more thing,” she said as she dumped the two file boxes onto her counter. “If you wouldn't mind, could you please park the car in my guest parking spot? Niles, I think you still have the keys.”

He fumbled around for his coat and dug the keys out of the pocket.

"Of course, Miss Babcock." He accepted the keys from Niles, then gave them a small bow before he took his leave, pushing the chair in front of him. “I'll return the keys momentarily.”

Turning to her unexpected guest, she placed her hands on hips and regarded him for a long moment. “Well, Slip ‘N Slide, you really did a number on yourself. You’re lucky you didn’t break several of those brittle old bones.”

Niles merely grunted in response as he reached up with careful fingers to prod at the spot where his head hurt most.

He almost flinched when she approached the side of the sofa and reached out to touch inspect the injury for herself.

“You have one helluva goose egg on the back of your head.”

Niles clenched his eyes closed as her fingers gently combed through his hair to inspect the painful knot. He wanted to write off the dizzying current that swept through him as a side effect of whacking his head upside that blasted wall, but he was already regaining his senses and the sudden tightening in his groin suggested otherwise. What was wrong with him?

“Well, I think you’ll live to scrub a toilet for another day.”

“Thank you so much for your concerned, Miss Babcock. I’m touched. Really.”

She ignored him.

“You should probably figure out just what kind of damage you’ve done to your ankle,” she told him as she stepped away from the sofa.

With ginger, careful movements, Niles slipped off his shoe. He couldn’t help but hiss a bit as he peeled away his his sock and saw just how swollen his ankle already was.

Sighing, he sat back and watched as Miss Babcock moved about her kitchen. She retrieved a couple baggies from her pantry then filled both with ice before placing a few more cubes in a glass that she filled with water.

“It’s best if you ice the ankle for no more than 20 minutes,” she said as she handed him the glass before placing one of the bags on his ankle. Handing him the other bag, she motioned for him to use it for the bump on his head . “I have some wraps and Tylenol. I’ll be right back.”

He winced and shivered at the chill as he placed the other ice pack to his head.

A few moments later, Miss Babcock returned with a well-stocked first aid kit and the promised bottle of medicine. It sort of amused him that, for once, Miss Babcock had to wait on him as he accepted the proffered items. He took the medicine first then pulled a rolled bandage from the the kit.

Miss Babcock’s face scrunched in consternation as he began to wind the bandage around his ankle. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Wrapping up leftovers. What does it look like I’m doing, Mr. McGee?”

She shook her head. “That’s not how you do it!”

“Oh, really? If you know so much, you put this on then.”

“Fine, I will! Gimme that.” She reached to take it from him but he leaned back and pulled it away from her, clutching it protectively to his chest.

“Oooh, no you don’t, Nurse Ratched. I can only imagine what medically unsound things you might do to me in the name of revenge.”

Her eyes flickered and her voice chilled into something angrier than usual. “Damn it, Niles, I’ve suffered enough injuries at your hands that, at this point, I probably have better experience than most medical professionals when it comes to treating a sprain.”

He flinched and swallowed back the unsettling sense of guilt that crept into his throat, knowing too well that, on account of some of his worst pranks gone awry, she likely _did_ have more knowledge than many people did on how to handle certain bodily injuries. He relinquished the wrap to her outstretched hand.

She sat down on the coffee table and carefully shifted his foot into her lap. With more gentleness than he ever anticipated from her -- or than he probably deserved -- she started at the arch, wrapping it around his foot a few times before winding it around his ankle in a figure eight and repeating the steps once again.

Not entirely comfortable with the silence, Niles decided to bring up her holiday decor. “I’m surprised you have a Christmas tree.”

She looked up at that. “Why?”

He arched a brow at her. “Because you have all the holiday cheer of a seasick crocodile?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not quite how the lyric for that song went.”

“Perhaps not, but if the size twelve shoe fits...”

“My size seven and a half is going to give you a matching bump on the other side of your head.”

She scowled at him but Niles thought he detected the faintest hint of amusement trying to tug her lips into a smirk. It was the first time all evening she showed any sort of sense of something other than tension. Hoping to draw her further away from her sour disposition, he continued to egg her on.

“If that’s supposed to fill me with comfort and joy…

This time she did smile. “You know what, if you don’t shut up and quit mangling Christmas carols, I’ll unwrap your damned ankle and stuff the bandage in your mouth instead.”

“Kinky.”

She stopped binding his ankle again to mock-glare at him. He held his hands up in surrender, though, so she returned to tending to his injury.

Finally, she ran out of bandage and fastened in place with a couple of clips.

“Does it feel secure enough but not too tight?”

He nodded.

“You need to sit back and elevate it now,” she said as she lifted his ankle from her lap and guided it to the coffee table while she stood up. “I’ll go get a couple pillows to prop it up.”

Moments later, she returned and set about arranging them for him.

“Wow, it’s coming down pretty hard out there,” Miss Babcock said as she finished the task.

Her brows knitting in concern, she rounded the sofa to approach the windows that spanned the back wall.

Niles shifted on the sofa in order to get a better look. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see much but it seemed the storm was picking up. He sighed. “I guess I’d better call a taxi.”

Her head whipped back to stare at him like he was deranged.

“What?”

“Niles, I very sincerely doubt you’ll be able to convince many taxi drivers to drive in this mess.”

“Fine, I’ll walk.” He pushed himself off the sofa. The swift motion, though, left him swaying like a drunken Weeble, and he planted his injured foot down on the ground too hard as he tried to restore his balance, nearly passing out from the pain.

How Babcock got across the room so fast, he didn’t know, but in an instant, she was beside him, her arms wrapped around his torso as she guided him back down to the sofa and sat down beside him.

“Niles, look at me, you obstinate old coot. You have a sprained ankle and probably a concussion,” she said, enunciating each word the way she might if he were a small and particularly dense child. “Much as the idea of you hobbling down the streets in confusion is rather entertaining to me, even I know it’s a bad idea. Stay!”

“I can’t stay!” he whined. "I have no pajamas."

"So sleep in your underwear. It's not like I've never seen you in them. At least this time you won't be able to dance around in them." Her grimace of revulsion at that thought was undone by her inability to contain her laughter at a certain memory.

“I’ll end up starving.”

At that, she threw her hands up in the air as she rose from the couch. Shaking her head, she marched to her fridge and yanked the doors open to present its contents to him.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

He gaped at the impressive stock of food, most especially the large turkey.

“Good lord, Babcock. Not even Sylvia Fine needs that much food to feed just herself.”

“Stuff it, Stove Top. Before their flight was canceled, I intended to host Noel and his boyfriend, who happens to be a five star chef, for Christmas. Vincent offered to cook dinner for us so I sent Angelica to pick up everything he needed. But if fresh meat and vegetables don’t suit you, I also have plenty of Lean Cuisines.”

She plucked one out of the freezer and waved it at him.

He scowled at that suggestion.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought. Any other concerns you would like to address about my fitness as a hostess?” she asked as she popped the frozen meal back into the freezer and shut the doors.

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Shut up, Niles. I’m going to go change and prepare the guest room.”

 

* * *

 

She felt like such an ass.

C.C. Babcock did not do guilt, and yet, the dirty sensation clung to her like a cheap perfume, heavy, overpowering, and vulgar.

In short, it stank.

Had she not behaved like a brat, intent on making Niles reach the same degree of crabbiness she wallowed in after such a dismal evening, he never would've ended this lousy night with a literal bang.

Now she had a whole new set of problems to deal with.

While she had a decent handle on how to deal with bruises and sprains, somehow Niles’ puerile pranks never managed to land her with a concussion. She only knew just enough about them to realize he probably had one.

Pulling her Rolodex forward on her desk, she flipped through the cards until she found the number she needed. With a glance at the clock, she frowned as she noted the late hour.

Making a quasi-business call at 10:52 was probably not appropriate...

...but then, Dr. Stinson was another one of her backers that chickened out on attending the party that evening.

The cad _owed_ her this much, damn it.

She punched in his number and reclined in her chair as the line started to ring.

“Hello?” a tired, mildly perturbed voice finally answered.

“Marty!” C.C. sweetened her tone. “This is C.C. Babcock.”

“Oh, C.C. dear, how are you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it this evening. With the weather being what it is-”

Not wanting to hear his petty excuses, she cut him off, “Yes, yes, I understand completely. Listen, I’m soooo sorry to bother you so late, but I sorta have a little dilemma on my hands and I hoped to get some advice.”

“...oh, um, of course.”

“Coming home from Maxwell’s this evening, a…” C.C. scrunched her nose up and tried not to choke on the word. “...friend...of mine slipped and fell on some ice walking into my building.”

That seemed to send the doctor into professional mode. “I see. I assume he suffered some injury then?”

“Yes, he hit the ground pretty hard, hurt his ankle, and knocked himself out for a few moments.”

“How long was he out?”

“Uh...maybe thirty seconds? It wasn’t too long.” She frowned at the memory. The moments before his eyes finally blinkered open seemed to stretch on much, much longer than that.

“Any memory loss?”

“Nothing significant. He doesn’t remember falling and maybe the last minute or two before he slipped. He was pretty dizzy and a little confused but he seems to be fairly coherent now. He still gets a bit woozy if he moves around too much right now.”

“That’s to be expected. Ideally, I’d recommend he try to see a doctor in the morning, but with the blizzard...well, just keep an eye on him. He’ll probably be pretty sore tomorrow and have one hell of a headache for a couple days. You can also expect some mood swings. He may have moments where he’s very grumpy.”

She snorted at that. “How can I tell the difference?”

“What?”

“I said that I’ll keep that in mind for reference.”

“In the mean time, it’s best that he rest as much as possible until his symptoms are gone. If he seems to be getting significantly worse or if those symptoms last more than a couple days, then try to get him to a doctor as soon as possible for evaluation.”

“He’s resting on the sofa right now. So it’s okay to let him sleep then?”

“Absolutely. In fact, that would be the best thing for him to do right now. I assume he’ll be staying with you?”

“Yeah,” she said with no enthusiasm.

Luckily, Dr. Stinson seem to remain oblivious to her lack of enthrallment with the circumstances. “You might wake him a couple times during the night just to make sure he rouses easily.”

“And what about his ankle? We’ve iced it and wrapped it. Anything else we should do?”

“Good. Then all you need to do now is encourage him to stay off of it as much as possible and keep it elevated, for the next couple days especially. Watch for any increased swelling. You can always give me call if you have any concerns, too, C.C.”

Ending the call, C.C. pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to absorb all the advice. Spending any time cooped up with Niles was never her idea of a good time, especially when it’d be only the two of them without anyone else around to serve as a buffer and deflect their attentions elsewhere for awhile. That, compounded with the fact that this was supposed to be the beginning of her Christmas vacation, made for a holiday horror fest in her mind.

The sooner she could foist the feeble butler back into Maxwell’s care, the better.

She groaned at the thought of her business partner. She probably needed to let him know what happened. For whatever reason, Maxwell would care.


	2. Chapter 2

Niles cursed Miss Babcock once again as he changed positions for the tenth time in as many minutes. Parts of him now ached that he never knew could, in fact, ache. When she left the living room after their spat, he'd dozed off. That twenty minute cat nap unfortunately proved to be the only substantial sleep he managed before she unceremoniously woke him up and insisted he stay out of sight and out of mind in her guest room.

Under normal circumstances, the bed would've been perfectly adequate and he might have welcomed the prospect of a quiet sanctuary for himself whilst being trapped within Miss Babcock's turf. The large knot toward the left side of his head and the sprained right ankle, though, presented quite a challenge. No matter which way he shifted, some part of his body lodged a protest against it.

Why couldn't that witch just let him be?

While he knew that, ultimately, a couch was probably not the best sleeping arrangement, at least her low-backed sofa allowed him to doze without disturbing either of his injuries. The inevitable crick in the neck might have been worth it.

He sighed as he wiggled into yet another position he knew wouldn't work for him. His mind wandered through all the events of that evening that led to his fall.

If only he'd sat there longer in the car.

Oh, who was he kidding? In a battle to prove who was more stubborn, they'd still be parked at the curb right now with the snow piling up around them.

But at least he'd still have his physical health.

No, he thought, the moment he might change if he could revise any of his decisions would be to not insist upon changing out of his tuxedo before hauling her across Manhattan. If he hadn't purposely dawdled just to annoy her further, perhaps that patch of sidewalk wouldn't have been so slick yet.

At least that decision left him with a set of comfortable clothes, he supposed.

Better yet, he should've called her a cab and let her be the Taxi and Limousine Commission's problem instead.

He yawned. Truth be told, he could come up with 'what if' scenarios all the way back to the idea of shutting the door in her face when she showed up for her interview with Mr. Sheffield almost sixteen years ago. It wouldn't change his unfortunate circumstances now.

With that glum thought, sleep finally overtook him.

  


* * *

  


C.C. groaned as her alarm blared at 3:30 AM and burrowed her face further into her pillow for a moment. Only her desire to not be held responsible for a potentially comatose blob o' butler compelled her to drag herself out of bed at such an unholy hour to check on him.

Squinting against the light in the hallway, she put on her robe as she shuffled her way to the guest room door down the hall and knocked on the door. She received no response.

With an impatient huff, she opened the door and peeked inside. The rise and fall of his chest under the covers made her feel better.

"Niles," she whispered.

Nothing.

This time she drew it out. "Niles..."

Still no signs of awareness.

She frowned. A small kernel of panic popped in her chest. What if he _had_ slipped into a coma?

"Niles?" she raised her voice a little louder and stepped further into the room.

Nope.

Maybe if she tried something a little more annoying?

Affecting her best impression of Nanny Fine's impressive nasally whine, she sang out, "Ni-yuuules!"

At that, his brow creased and he almost pouted as he receded deeper into the bed covers.

"Not now, Miss Fine," he whined in his sleep.

Partly relieved, but mostly just just too amused that it worked, she muffled a laugh behind her hand and crossed over to his bedside.

"Hey, Mop 'N Glow, wake up!"

To that, he just grunted.

Entertaining as this was, she wanted to go back to bed at some point, so she leaned down until her lips were mere inches from his ear and took a deep breath.

"NILES!"

She swore he jumped at least six inches above the mattress as he yelped and sat straight up in the bed.

"What do you want, you water-retaining sea cow?" he howled.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't died in your sleep," she said with a none-too-innocent smile.

"Ugh, if only I were..." He drew a slow, deep breath and buried his face in his hands. "I think I'm going to be ill."

C.C. took a few swift steps backward and frantically looked for a wastebasket. Spying one in the corner, she grabbed it and placed it next to the bed.

"You _will_ clean up after yourself if you do. And heaven help you if you hurl all over my white carpet."

The heat from the loathing glare he sent her contained enough power to keep her fireplace burning for the rest of winter. "You'll have no one else to blame if I do! You're the one who chose to wake me up by roaring in my face. Your bad breath makes me nauseous."

She crossed her arms. "Fine. Next time, I won't wake you up. I'll practice my face painting skills on you...and I'll use something a little more permanent than shoe polish."

"Just go away, Babcock. And turn down the heat."

"How can you possibly be too warm? If anything, it's too cold."

"Figures I';d end up imprisoned by the Heat Miser," he groused. "Can I at least have something for my headache?"

"Anything to make you quit whining."

By the time she returned with a couple pills and a glass of water, he was already half asleep again.

  


* * *

  


Shortly after ten that morning, the she-beast invaded again. This time, she brought food.

Luckily, he woke up easier than he had earlier that morning, though her method was no less rude.

"God, Niles, put some clothes on!"

After she made it clear her thermostat would remain locked in at boiling lava degrees, he'd stripped out of his t-shirt and kicked off all the blankets save for one sheet.

Just to make her uncomfortable, he let that sheet slide just a bit further down his chest as he sat up. It gave him a grim sort of satisfaction to see how it flustered her as she tried not to look too closely at him while offering him a plateful of sliced apples and bananas.

Still fairly nauseated and somehow even more sore than ever before, he gave fruit she a dubious glance.

"It's what Angelica gives me for breakfast when I'm not feeling well," she said with a shrug.

"You mean when you're hungover."

She sneered at him for a moment before looking away and mumbling, "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to..."

He elected to ignore the food, instead taking a sip from the glass of water already placed on the nightstand. Scooping up the two tablets he found there as well and swiftly washing them down, he slid back down on the mattress.

"When can I go home?"

The incredulous look on her face made Niles' stomach knot with dread.

"You do realize that that there's already ten inches on the ground and it's still coming down, right?"

He gestured to the closed curtains.

She crossed the room and yanked them open.

That...was a terrible, terrible mistake, he realized. White, bright light filled the room, making his skull feel like it was being pierced by a knife.

He threw his sheet over his head and moaned.

Babcock chuckled and redrew the curtains. "At least I got you to cover back up. I have no desire to see your 'Tiny Tim,' Niles."

"I told you it was too warm in here."

"Fine, I'll set you in the chair from my office and wheel you out onto the balcony. That'll cool you off. Especially if I just leave you there."

"I want to go home!"

"By all means, if you think you can make it nine streets over in 40 mile per hour winds with all that snow blowing in your face, be my guest. With that bum ankle, my money's on you turning into a butler-sicle, though."

"Don't tempt me."

"Maybe I will. Tell me, am I in you will?" she laughed.

"Babcock, I wouldn't leave you my dirtiest rags."

"I'm hurt, Niles," she said, pressing her hand to her chest in pretend shock. "Not even a half used bottle of Windex?"

"Get. Out."

She did.

He never would admit it, but the fruit did help.

  


* * *

  


The rest of the day passed quietly.

She checked in on him a few more times throughout the day, but mostly, he slept. Considering how he growled at her when he was awake, she felt it was for the best. She spent her day working through the files she brought home. Somehow she doubted she'd be able to get much done once he finally got passed the worst of his concussion. She tried to leave glasses of water and more medicine during the spells when he seemed to be sleeping more soundly.

It was nearing nine when she heard his door open. Looking up, she watched as he limped into the living room and settled opposite of her on the sofa. She noted that he seemed much more relaxed than he'd been even before he tried to use her building's sidewalk as a makeshift skating rink.

"Feel better?"

"Much. The headache finally went away."

"Good, because you weren't about to win Miss Congeniality with that sparkling personality you had before it did."

He chuckled at that, and for the first time since the accident, she felt her own tension ease.

"Hungry?"

"Only if the food you serve doesn't involve a processed frozen dinner."

"I can cook, Niles. I don't depend upon your poisons alone for nourishment, you know." She knew he doubted her and it made her want to prove herself to him.

"Oh, yeah? This I've gotta see. Prove it."

"I will. How does breakfast for dinner sound?"


End file.
